


Howard Moon: Ballet Dancer

by tehfanglyfish



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard's dreams come true... in more ways than one.</p>
<p>I own nothing, especially not these characters.  If I did, I wouldn’t be hiding from student loans right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howard Moon: Ballet Dancer

It is a well known fact that all humans dream. Some, perhaps, dream exclusively at night while asleep and only because their brains force them to do so. Others, however, choose to dream in different ways, imagining brighter futures and the means by which to achieve them. Howard Moon put himself firmly in this second category of humans. 

Over the years, Howard had shared many of his dreams with Vince Noir, his partner in crime and adventure. From his desire to be a novelist, to his pining for Mrs. Gideon, to even his own burning and unrequited love for Vince, Howard had opened his soul to Vince, and usually found himself laughed at. Despite his willingness to share so much with Vince, Howard had one dream in particular that he kept to himself. This was partially because of how much it meant to him, partially because he felt that he had no hope of achieving it, and partially because he feared Vince might laugh himself to death if he found out. Howard wanted to be a dancer, to let his body become one with the music. His passion went beyond simply swaying in a jazz trance or the repetitive motions of Jazzercise. Howard T.J. Moon, Man of Action, wanted to dance on his toes, graceful as a swan. He wanted to be dance ballet.

It seemed for a time that Howard’s most secret desire would, like so many of his other dreams, amount to nothing more than a fantasy trapped within his mind, with no hope of ever coming to fruition. It wasn’t so much that Howard had never tried to pursue his ballet dream. He had once bravely stridden into a local dance studio that offered lessons and inquired about pricing for beginners. The woman at the desk had been warm and friendly, but when she asked him about the age of his daughter he began to feel uncertain. A moment later, when a legion of little girls, all clad in pink, rushed through the foyer, Howard entered a full panic and fled. It seemed as though there simply was no room for someone of Howard’s age or sex in a beginner ballet class. Howard tried his best to shove his desires into the furthest recesses of his mind so as not to dwell on something that, just like his yearning to write and his yearning for Vince, would never be realized.

And then one Saturday morning as Howard was riding the bus on his way to visit Lester Corncrake, he discovered an advertisement in an abandoned newspaper that had the potential to make his almost forgotten dream into a reality. Being used to disappointment, Howard was wary of trusting what he read, but it seemed as though a new dance studio was opening that offered introductory ballet classes for men. Howard got off at the next stop and found a bus to take him across the city to the studio. Lester would simply have to wait.

Upon arriving at the studio, Howard almost lost his nerve. After all, fate so often treated him cruelly and this seemed almost too good to be true. In the end, though, Howard’s courage came through. It’s true that there were many pink little girls running around, but the receptionist didn’t seem at all fazed when Howard, who found himself unable to speak, pointed at the newspaper advert, and she signed him up for the classes.

Over the next few months, Howard learned a lot about ballet. At his first class, for example, he discovered that men typically did not dance on their toes. While Howard felt frustrated with this revelation, he ultimately decided not to let it erode his enthusiasm for ballet. He figured this was something he could work on rectifying this after he had become a world famous dancer. Howard also learned about the specialized clothing worn by ballet dancers. 

Prior to actually taking a class, it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be required to wear to wear tights. Upon first hearing this, he tried desperately to explain to his instructor that he was a Man of Action and that such garments simply were not acceptable. The teacher, who had perhaps seen more than a few men balk at the mention of tights, calmed Howard down from his near hysteria and explained that the tights gave dancers more mobility and allowed her to better observe Howard’s muscles and technique. The tights were actually quite practical, she reassured him. Howard prided himself on his practicality and wore them with pride and confidence from then on, although he was secretly grateful that men typically wore black instead of pink. He did, however, hang them to dry in the deepest, darkest corner of his closet. Howard’s practical side decided that it was best that Vince never discover Howard’s tights. 

Howard also felt somewhat disconcerted by his dance belt. Rather than being a traditional belt that one wore around one’s waist, the dance belt was a kind of supportive garment designed to counter the rather revealing effect of tights. His instructor explained that just as the tights highlighted Howard’s muscular legs, they also had the potential to silhouette other parts of his anatomy. The dance belt would help keep Howard’s privates private. Although this conversation made Howard’s face turn a variety of shades of red, he was able to grasp the importance and usefulness of the belt until he saw it. Upon initial inspection Howard thought he was looking at an overpriced pair of y-fronts, but when he flipped it over he was mortified. Instead of providing full coverage in back, there was only a small strip of fabric running down the middle. Howard Moon was not the kind of man to wear a thong! Again, his patient and increasingly amused teacher reassured him, explaining that this kept his tights looking smooth and prevented bunching. Howard accepted this but found an even deeper, darker part of his closet to hang his drying dance belt.

Over the next few months, ballet dominated much of Howard’s life. He still worked at the Nabootique, of course, but apart from that he spent the majority of his time either at lessons or practicing in his room. In the first few weeks, his body ached constantly as he worked muscles in new and challenging ways, but increasingly Howard grew stronger and leaner. Although he had initially been somewhat awkward and clumsy, his technique improved and became more refined. He no longer tripped over his fellow dancers and his teacher often complimented him on his technique. Vince, curious about Howard’s long absences from the flat and his new physical appearance, questioned Howard, only to get long and rambling answers that mentioned something about the healing power of Jazzercise. Vince, having spent so many years in the company of Howard, knew when the other man was lying and wondered what it was exactly that Howard was hiding from him.

Howard’s dedication paid off and he was cast as the male lead in a production his studio was doing with members of its beginner adults. Fearing that he might screw this up and remembering many of his past failures, Howard obsessively wrote the time, date, and location of the performance in his diary, on the back of his bookmark, and, without thinking, on the main calendar in the flat. 

On the night of the performance, Howard was amazing. He did not trip and fall like he initially feared he might. His timing was perfect. He did not drop the female lead and even helped her recover when she was a bit off. In fact nothing went wrong at all for Howard until the performance ended and he happened to really look out at the audience. Towards the back of the auditorium, adorned in his unmistakable cowboy hat, was Vince. Howard could barely make out his face, but he had no desire to see Vince’s reaction to the performance. For over half a year, Howard had lived one of his deepest dreams and now he was pretty much certain that it was all over. Although he was able to retain a calm appearance as he exited the stage, inside he was panicking as he rushed to the changing room. His life was over. He would probably have to move out and find a new job to escape Vince’s ridicule. And if Vince told Naboo, which Howard was pretty sure he would, well, Howard felt it was best not to even think about that. New town, new job, new life. That was Howard’s plan for the future if only he could get dressed and leave without running into Vince.

“Howard,” a quiet but familiar voice called.

Howard froze. He had been frantically trying to open his locker and hadn’t heard anyone enter the changing room. Howard turned.

“Oh, um, hi, Vince. This isn’t what it… I don’t… it’s just that… What the hell are you doing here?!” 

It all came out in a rush, but Vince didn’t immediately respond. He was staring at Howard with large eyes, barely blinking. Howard tried to gauge the look on Vince’s face. It wasn’t the leer Howard had expected and he couldn’t quite identify it. It seemed to convey something along the lines of curiosity and… something else. Howard didn’t know what to expect. Vince snapped out of his momentary stupor.

“I saw your note on the calendar and I wondered where you’d been going all this time so I followed you.”

“I see.” Howard began mentally kicking himself for writing the date and had to resist the Chinese burn impulse, something that he hadn’t felt since he started ballet classes. The tension was too much and Howard feared he might actually burst into tears.

“So you’re here to laugh at me are you? Well, go ahead. Let’s hear it, then, little man.”

Howard’s anger took Vince by surprise and he was silent for a moment. Howard thought that he might just drop dead.

“Howard, you were well brilliant tonight.”

It was now Howard’s turn to be taken aback.

“I mean, yeah, I wasn’t sure what to think at first. I had no idea where you were sneaking off to, but I never thought it would be ballet. And you are a great northern jazzy freak and all, and I did sort of expect that you might stumble about a bit like a giraffe with three legs, but Howard… you had genius moves and your legs…” 

Vince trailed off. He was staring at Howard’s tights, again with that look that Howard couldn’t place.

“So you’re not here to laugh at me then?”

“’Course not. I just wanted to see what you’d been up to since you’re always either gone or in your room with the door shut. You could have told me, you muppet. I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”

“Not at all?”

“Well, maybe a bit.”

“I see.”

“But I wouldn’t have meant it all mean. Besides I dance all the time, just not in tights.”

Again, Vince seemed almost hypnotized by Howard’s spandex-clad legs, but Howard, unable to read Vince, went on the defensive.

“My tights, sir, are integral to the art of ballet dancing. There is nothing unmanly about my tights and you can…”

“Howard,” Vince cut him off, “I like your tights.”

“Oh,” Howard said, clearly startled. “Well don’t think you can go borrowing them. They’re not a fashion accessory, they’re a vital part of my…”

“Howard,” Vince cut him off again. “I like your tights on you.”

“Oh,” Howard said again, and this time he felt his mouth go dry. He wasn’t sure of what he should say. Vince was still giving him that look, the one he couldn’t identify, only it was more intense now. Vince stepped closer, reaching out a hand and placing it on Howard’s thigh. Howard couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He was grateful that he was wearing his dance belt.

“I mean,” said Vince, in a rather strange and quiet tone, “I’ve always admired your legs, but in the tights…” His voice trailed off, but his hand remained on Howard’s thigh and he moved even closer.

Howard was in full panic mode. It seemed as though Vince was coming on to him, but Howard didn’t trust Vince. Not like this. Howard remembered his birthday party, he remembered the roof. He was not going to be humiliated like that again.

“Look, Vince, I know you’re just having your fun. Leroy’s probably hiding somewhere with a camera, but it’s not going to work. We’ve been through this once already and…”

Vince cut Howard off for a third time, this time kissing Howard to shut him up. And while Howard still feared that this was some awful, horrible joke, he simply gave in, deciding not to fight Vince but to instead kiss back with all of the pent up longing and passion and frustration and love that he felt for the other man. Vince pulled back for a moment, breathless.

“Come with me,” he stated, pulling Howard along with him into one of the changing cubicles.

For a tiny fraction of a second, Howard feared that the other dancers might suddenly show up, but the things that Vince was doing with his hands and mouth provided a useful distraction and Howard forgot to worry, instead focusing on just how Vince liked to be touched. Vince, on the other hand, was learning all about dance belts, deciding that he liked them, and considering the possibilities they offered for the future. Howard discovered that his ballet training gave him the flexibility that made intense snogging and groping in small changing cubicle a bit easier, and began to also think about the future and how this flexibility might be useful. As one might expect, things ended soon after they began, but neither man seemed worried. This was only the beginning, after all.

Conveniently, Howard and Vince managed to exit the changing room before any of the other dancers, who were all distracted by the post-performance reception, arrived. Howard’s instructor invited him and Vince to stay a bit longer, but they both apologized, insisting that an urgent matter required them to head home a bit sooner than expected. Howard assured her that he would see her again at the next week’s lesson and they hurried to the door. If any of the other people noticed how disheveled the two men looked, they didn’t mention it.

And yet they didn’t shag immediately after arriving home. Howard, equipped with a new sense of confidence, refused until after they’d had a long and drawn out conversation first in which they discussed past conflicts, resolved issues stemming from the party, and made confessions regarding hidden affections. Howard loved Vince desperately, but he also wanted things to be out in the open so that this time no one got hurt. 

Howard continued on with his ballet lessons, making his way into the intermediate and advanced classes. Eventually some of the instructors taught him how to dance on his toes, even if it still remained something that men rarely did. Although never world famous, Howard did eventually take up teaching some of the lower level courses. Vince, who over the years had secretly loved Howard just as much as Howard loved him, tried to learn but lacked the skill. It didn’t matter. They were happy together and Vince never grew tired of seeing Howard in tights. As for the tights and the dance belt, they, much like Howard and Vince, were never again hidden deep within the closet.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re curious about a dance belt, you can see one here. http://www.auroradancewear.co.uk/acatalog/dance_belt_new.jpg


End file.
